Not Enough Time
by FireOpal
Summary: There's never enough time. She would die. He would live on. And God how he hated it. 10DR, angsty musings and comfort. PostSchool Reunion. Possible DSJ, if you squint and turn it upside down.


**Comments** - Written and set just after 'School Reunion', but only posted now because I was too busy and it needed rereading for errors.  
**Summary** - She would die. He would live on. And God how he hated it. 10D/R, angsty musings and comfort.  
**Disclaimer** - None of it's mine, even the title, which is taken from a song by INXS. All used without permission, because if I had permission, I'd be writing for the series, and sat there next to Mr Moffat, Mr Davies, and DEFINITELY next to Mr Tennant.

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Not Enough Time **

Rose was quiet as she re-entered the control room, so he looked up briefly, flashed his usual more-than-slightly-crazed grin and flicked a random switch. He didn't even know what some of them did anymore, and was beginning to wonder if he'd put them there in an attempt to show off in a previous regeneration and forgotten about it. It didn't seem to do anything drastic, so he carried on inputting space co-ordinates as usual. It might even do something about the rocky stabilisers, but he doubted it. Being the last Time Lord was one hell of a bugger with getting new parts for machinery.

Among other things.

He could sense her quiet sadness behind him every bit as much as he ever could – the gentle wash of sorrow and confusion and a jumble of other emotions that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with. He could feel his own emotions flicker and curl in his stomach. He knew exactly what she would be thinking about, because he couldn't get it off his mind either, try as he might.

She would die. He would live on. And God how he hated it.

It had never bothered him much once. Oh, he'd had companions, had left companions, had seen them go off and get on with their lives. He'd forced Sarah, the same Sarah that he had just embraced outside in the beautiful tree-dappled sunshine, to leave and never returned to her. By that time, he'd started to realise the truth – she would grow old, she would wither, she would die. And he would always go on.

And, all of a sudden, he couldn't cope with it anymore. Whether it was a side effect of the regeneration, that it had made him feel so much more where he had been numb with pain, he didn't know. All he knew was that the realisation he had ignored since he had first offered Rose to come with him was swooping low to hit his stomach, with enough force to make his eyes burn and his throat thicken.

Pausing, glad that his back was still to his companion – current companion -, he curled his hands tightly around the controls; closing his eyes as he fought for control. He couldn't let Rose see – she had her own problems to face.

Idly, distantly, he wondered whether it was that reason, or his own pride that had him hiding his feelings from the one person that had healed him so much. He breathed out.

"Doctor?"

He hadn't realised she was behind him until her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. Glancing at his hands, he realised with some surprise that they were white from clenching the control panel tightly, and that he was shaking slightly.

With a quick movement, his hands flew from the controls and he drew back, moved round to finish the sequence. His hearts were flying and his feet felt restless – he had to move. He had to distance himself, from Rose, from the emotion, from himself. He couldn't even raise his eyes to Rose, knowing hers would be full of confusion at his state, and the emotion they hadn't left behind when they had left Earth.

"Doctor, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied with a grin he knew looked absolutely false. He still didn't match her eyes – instead preferring to look slightly to the left of her. This had the added benefit of telling him that Mickey had gone, and gave him an avenue for conversation. "Where's Mickey?"

"I sent him to look for a bedroom," she crooked a grin.

He snorted, though the in-joke did nothing to lighten his heart. "Let me guess, he ignored everything you said and walked off to the left?"

"Just like Adam and Jack," Rose agreed with a smirk, shaking her head.

"Well if he comes to me tomorrow complaining about getting lost, I'm blaming it all on you," he mock-warned, shaking his finger at her. He felt better know – his composure was teetering back from that breaking point and he could almost stand to be in the same room as her.

There was a long pause before he got the rotary column to work (thumping the pandimensional drive – he needed to get that fixed he reminded himself needlessly, trying to redirect his thoughts). In between, he shifted uneasily between the controls, thanking anything and everything that at least he only had Rose to deal with. The idea of Mickey watching him break down was, well, terrifying.

"Are you alright?" she asked again softly, her gaze locking his down finally. Her London accent was almost a burr on her tongue, making her sound younger, whereas her eyes looked right into him, knowing him as if she had been there all his life.

But she hadn't. She never could. The curse of the Time Lords.

"Yeah, fine, why wouldn't I be?" he raced off in his way, his face the picture of flamboyant fine-ness. Well, he hoped it would. Unfortunately, it didn't work for either of them.

She reached out to touch his hand, almost going to take it, but then drew back slightly.

"You used to talk to me," Rose remarked. "Don't you trust me? What did I do?"

Her heart was in her eyes and it broke his into pieces.

"I do talk to you," he insisted quietly, moving around the controls to face her. "I trust you with my life."

"Then why do you hide from me?"

"I-" he faltered. The pain was swirling in his gut again, like an animal ready to strike whenever he was vulnerable. "You'll die."

The answer shocked him as much as it did her, but her reaction was as if she'd been slapped.

"Rose, God, I didn't mean that," he added quickly, her reaction making him realise what he'd said.

"I know what you meant," she replied, regaining a touch of composure. "You said it before – our lives are so short. You get rid of us because we're gonna wither and die, just like you did with Sarah. Makes me wonder why you bother in the first place."

"You don't understand," he forced out beyond the emotional beast that tightened its grip on his throat.

"Then make me understand!" Rose shouted back, stepping up to him. "Tell me what I'm missing here Doctor – tell me what part of you leavin' her for a younger model I don't understand!"

"It's not that!" he yelled back, the words having struck a chord that turned his pain to anger for a split second. The fear that crept into her eyes brought him back, tightly reigning in his control. He forced himself to calm before he spoke again.

As gently as he could, he raised his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and stroking the soft skin. His hands shook.

"I loved Sarah," he admitted in a low voice that broke on the unfamiliar word. "I loved her so much. Leaving her was hard. But can you imagine what it's like? All the companions I've had, that I've loved, they all die. They all grow old and die and I can't stop it. I can take you all out those doors and watch you put your lives in danger, because I know I can stop it. I can't stop time. I'm a Time Lord, but I-" his voice broke slightly, "I can't stop time!

"When I left Sarah, I was going to go back for her, once my business on Gallifrey was done. I had these big hopes of turning up, right place and time for once, inviting her back in and continuing just like before. But I couldn't. I couldn't watch her grow older every day, knowing that some day she'd be snatched from me. I," he closed his eyes briefly. "I had to leave her, because at least then I could keep the memory of her like that with me, and I wouldn't have to suffer leaving her twice."

"And me?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he replied in a similar tone. "I don't think I can send you away again, but I can't stop you from leaving me, whether it's with Mickey, or you just want to go home, or – " he faltered, but she knew exactly what he meant.

"You're so worried about losing me, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, but his eyes gave her an answer. Rose paused a moment, before carefully forming her question. "If you could have, would you have spent the rest of your life with Sarah?"

He turned away slightly as he thought, before closing his eyes.

"Yes."

"And if you could, would you spend the rest of your life with me?" she asked, barely a waver in her voice though he knew the answer had hurt her.

"Yes."

She paused again to evaluate this, but the silence didn't help. His imagination, many times blessed for its ability to think of escape plans, was now tormenting him with images that were no less painful for their fiction. Rose, his Rose, aging. Trying to hide it as she changed while he stayed the same, while he knew all along that every moment took her closer to the inevitable.

Not content to merely plague him this way, the images from his few nightmares that didn't include his burning planet – of Rose, hurt, dying in his arms – returned to the fore, and even his tightly closed lids couldn't shelter him.

He couldn't do this. He had to do something. Take his mind off it – get moving. The pain would go away, if only he moved, got on with life, ignored the pain.

But he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't **think**.

Light fingertips on his face made him open his eyes in surprise. Rose's fingers softly wiping across his cheek and coming away wet – was he crying? – and her eyes full of sympathy and understanding and love.

Love was a dangerous thing. Love brought pain. Love was irresistible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and gently resting her head on his chest. For once, it wasn't him giving comfort but taking it, and, without being able to stop himself, he pulled her in tighter, the scent of her hair making his hearts ache while the embrace eased the pain. The tears streamed his cheeks unstoppably, but he didn't really mind any more.

"Just don't leave me," she muttered to him, knowing he would hear.

"Never. I could never do that," he replied, stroking her hair. He couldn't voice the comment in return, that he so desperately wanted to ask her the same. He would never leave her, he knew that, but he knew that if she wanted to leave, he'd have to let her go.

She sniffed after a while, when whatever moment they had shared had passed into what they deemed normality, and pulled back slightly as if unwilling to end the embrace but doing so anyway.

The Doctor discreetly wiped his face with one hand, before trying a smile.

"Come on, I'd hate to see your boyfriends' face if we have to drag him out the swimming pool," he said lightly. Rose grinned back, reaching out her hand to take his.

"Yeah, we'd better. But he's not my boyfriend."

The Doctor frowned. "Since when?"

"Oh, ages," Rose replied vaguely, hiding her eyes. She wanted desperately to reply with what was in her heart, but she knew that would be a bad idea, especially given his mood. "Come on then you."

Shrugging at her back as she slipped away from him, he couldn't help but feel he'd missed an entire conversation somewhere along the lines.

Oh well – lack of time or not, they had plenty for him to find out later.

He set off after Rose, telling himself that he wasn't remembering the feel of her lips on his all the way to the swimming pool.


End file.
